I love my house. It is tiny and adorable - it's just 5 rooms and 875 square feet of 1950's charm with hardwood floors and a big backyard. It wasn't quite as adorable when we bought it a few months ago, however. The wood floors had been mistreated and were badly in need of sanding and refinishing (which we did ourselves), every wall was dirty eggshell white (which we cleaned, sanded and repainted ourselves), and the bathroom was a nightmare. We gutted that sucker the day after we closed escrow and owe its current glory (and it is glorious) to the hubs' dad, brother and 2 freelance tile guys. It took about 6 weeks to make the house liveable, but in the process I did manage to lose about 10 pounds, so not a bad deal all things considered!

There are some people, however, who don't think my house is as cute as I do, and they aren't shy about expressing that opinion. I don't understand this kind of person. Who walks into someone's house (the first house they've ever owned) and says things like, "Well you certainly have your work cut out for you" or "It looks a lot better than the last time I was here"? The kind of person who doesn't get invited to the housewarming party, that's who.

Luckily, I'm the sort of gal who takes life's lemons and makes lemonade. Yep. I'm using those comments as a catalyst to turn myself into a more assertive person. So the next time someone makes a rude comment about my tiny house, my plans for reproduction, or my iffy cooking skills, I'll smile sweetly and retort with a backhanded remark about their weight or female pattern baldness. :)



I once read that getting pregnant is the single most unoriginal thing a woman could do. Of course that's true, but it doesn't stop millions of women from wanting it every day. And it doesn't stop me from wanting to get pregnant either. I strive for the unimaginative, what can I say?

In the 6 or so months that the hubs and I have been trying, I've gotten really good at making myself think I could be pregnant because I have indigestion, or my boobs hurt, or I have cramps, I'm moody, I'm breaking out, bloated, tired, hungry, thirsty, dizzy, gassy, have a funny taste in my mouth, am peeing more often than usual, more sensitive to odors... And then each month I am devastated to discover that I am, in fact, still unfruitful. I now believe that most women who claim it was these signs that proved to them they were pregnant were just hyperanalytical about their bodily changes while trying to conceive, and probably always had the same symptoms every month right before they started their periods, they just never paid close enough attention before to realize it.

At any rate, I am vowing to stop analyzing every feeling I have, mostly because it's driving me banana frickin sandwich trying to figure out if my right boob hurts more on the side or on the top, and what that means is going on in my uterus. I wouldn't be surprised if it was driving the hubs crazy either... But being a woman, I am naturally prone to being overly analytical, so this should prove to be a big challenge. Let's see how long it lasts.